Why travel?

Originally, I thought I'd spend every other weekend in a different European city. I thought that if I stayed in Paris I wouldn't be taking advantage of being in France for the semester. It's taken me exactly one weekend, however, to realize that I'm in France for Paris - and there's so much to do here and I already love it so much that it'll be hard to tear myself away for even one weekend a month. Good thing I'm a fast learner, eh?

Saturday was, as Eliza Doolittle says, loverly. We all slept in - a rare treat at 11 Victor Cousin - and then I planted myself at my café for a couple hours to do homework/email/etc. (My café is the Luxembourg Café, a restaurant/café a couple blocks from my house with wireless and the best croque-monsieurs ever. I kind of live there. In fact, I'm there right now.) After looking around online for a good boucherie on my métro line, I trekked over to Etienne Marcel and found Mecca: there's this street, Rue Montorgeuil, that is lined with boucheries and poissoneries and fromageries and lots of other yummy -eries. The street is cobblestoned, and there were so many people there, shopping and caféing, (I'm verbing that; it's pretty much a national sport here) that I didn't realize until later that it wasn't, in fact, a pedestrian-only street. The whole neighborood is pretty much like that, and there are tons of really good clothing shops, too. After wandering around and planning several dozen different dinner parties, I met my date from the night before at a café in the area. We hung out there and then wandered around and were disgustingly cute for a couple hours. (His name, by the way, is Ethan. He's very sweet. Also very crazy about me. I'm digging it.)

After that lazy afternoon I met up with some friends at Odéon for drinks. Ben and Luke were here last semester, so they took us to a bar they frequented. It was dim and humming and low-ceilinged and very, very chill. We managed to convince the bartenders to open the basement early, so we didn't have to shout to be heard or begin dying of second-hand smoke. Afterward they saw "Blood Diamond", but I had seen it with Eitan the night before, and so met Alyssa and Nellie (my flatmates) and some NYU kids for dinner at a Greek place nearr my apartment. The restaurant was very cosy and friendly, annd the food was pretty good, but I never again want to eat with people who are that indecisive. Yikes. They all had big plans after the movie: a theater near us is known for doing movie marathons that start at midnight and end with breakfast around 7am. Last night's festival was a David Lynch thing. I had to get up early for AmCath, so I couldn't go (although apparently both Alyssa and Nellie pooped out early).

So. My first Sunday. Today was the Annual Meeting Thing, so the sermon was a bunch of thank-yous and "we, the community of blah blah blahs." Because we - well, the rest of the choir - had been recording a Christmas CD all week, we only did a Sowerby piece (not his best, I might add), and the children's choir filled in the other anthem. I made friends... ish. The social dynamic is a LOT wider than it was at St. Michael's, so I'm not sure how much everyone actually pals around. There are some kids who look like they're still in their 20s, and I've talked to most of them and they're friendly, but then there are a bunch of singers who don't hang around after at all, and some who just don't seem that open, and some - ahem, one - who told me that kneeling during the prayers wasn't optional. Excuse me, lady, but no one can tell I'm not kneeling and I'm not being disrespectful. To paraphrase an expression of my father's, used when my sister and I would fight during long car trips, "Look out your own goddamn window." I didn't actually say that to her, but the soprano I stand next to made a face at the other woman, and that made me feel better.

Later in the afternoon, Taylor, Nellie, and I went to an Australian bar to watch the France-Ireland rugby match. (The 6 Nations tournament - France, Italy, England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales - is going on now, and it's kind of a big deal.) It was AMAZING. The bar, obviously, was packed, and everyone was cheering and groaning in unison and, obviously, in French. I thought about rooting for Ireland for about 30 seconds, but then decided I liked my head attached to my neck and so "allez"ed along with everyone else. The level of play was incredible; the ball never stopped moving! When France made a try (the rugby version of a touchdown) near the end of the first half, the whole bar broke into the national anthem. It was actually really stirring. We were all on the edge of our metaphorical barstools during the second half, though, because Ireland made a try and pulled ahead of France. It looked like we'd never come back - until! seven minutes into injury time, number 14 broke away and made a try, bringing France up 20-17. It was unbelievable... the whole bar errupted. I have never seen that many men hugging each other, not even at frat parties. It was quite an experience; Taylor and I have decided to go back for every game, rather than just the ones we're interested in. (Nellie made a valiant effort to follow the game, but understandable gave up after 20 minutes.)

So. Tomorrow: first day of Sorbonne courses, class from 9 until 6, and the presidential debate. Yikes. It's going to be a long Monday. Scratch that. It's going to be the first of many long Mondays. Double yikes.